A Kind of Quiet
by ExperimentalSubject
Summary: A majority of SuFin, possibly throwing some others in for variety. Somewhat fluffy stories, as well.
1. Murmurs

**Murmur**

Finland awoke once that night. It took him a second the realize where he was, which was terrifyingly close to Sweden, outside a forest in the middle of nowhere. He considered it a miracle that he had actually fallen asleep at all. Apparently Sweden had moved closer while Finland was sleeping, because he was now pressing not uncomfortably against the other's chest. Sweden moved his head slightly, until Finland felt gentle pressure on the top of his head. He could fell Sweden's lips forming vague words, the murmured sound lost in the slight breeze.

If Sweden was asleep, Finland didn't want to wake him up, so he asked "Are you awake?" in the softest voice he could manage that would still be audible. The only response was a barely-there smile felt on his forehead and a tune forming on the edge of his consciousness.

Finland smiled in return and closed his eyes, murmured song guiding him back to sleep.

He was not at all surprised that when he awoke in the morning, Sweden was already awake and showed no sign that anything at all happened the previous night. Finland pulled a coat on, the shadow of a laugh playing about his face. Sweden looked inquisitively over at him. "What're ya smilin' 'bout?"

"Nothing much."

**...notes...**

Review please. I'm not great, and would like to improve.

And I think I have enough fluff in my head to supply a plush company for a year. Anyways, I'm probably going to leave this open and not update it anymore! Yeah! Well anyways, for the one person reading this, if you review and include a character or pairing you want me to write for, I probably will (if I like it).


	2. Madness

So. Just FYI, this is based off the song "Wide Knowledge of the Late, Madness", because I am a Vocaloid fan. XD There is no fluff. Also, there is character death because that's how the song goes. Sorry. Human names used, sort of.

R&R please.

The room smelled of antiseptic. I was used to it, as I spent so much time in here. My room with the little slip of paper on the door that says 'Berwald Oxensteirna- Sweden' in neat handwriting. I spent every day, every night, in this blindingly white room. The rest of the place was clean and white, too. They called this place a "hospital", but too many people died here for it to have that name. Every day, I would see a warden walk by, and come back with another resident in tow. I knew where they were headed.

The experimentation rooms.

Ivan.

Nobody came back from those rooms I was stationed across from. Ever. No one particularly worried about this, many of the residents appeared to be chosen for their calm insanity. They just walked on quietly in acceptance or ignorance. I took it in stride, too, footsteps, doors clicking open-shut, laughter and screaming, and silence. It was how the place worked.

I was somewhat surprised when I heard the wardens walking by again. It was a bit early for them to be coming, wasn't it? But the footsteps were getting closer, and I pulled myself up to the window in my door to get a better look. As the footsteps approached, I heard anther sound; glass hitting glass with a _tink_, and the creaky rattle of the cart wardens often pushed around. The footsteps rounded the corner. It was a warden, dragging a kid behind him.

I caught the eye of the next victim, an older boy, with unruly hair and bruised hands bound behind his back. He had wild blue eyes, with pupils contracted to barely-there dots. He gave me a wild grin, turned around, and walked calmly into the experimentation room. The door clicked behind the boy, open-shut.

I expected most of the noises, Ivan's manic laughter, smacks, and a number of _whunp_s, but there were no screams. Either the boy couldn't speak, or he was insane enough to accept the bludgeoning with silence. Flower-spatters of blood blossomed on the window on Ivan's door. The vivid scarlet blossoms spread until the window was eclipsed with blood, but I could still see another, black-red, flower. Ivan's shadow seemed to smile as he brought what looked like a pipe down once more before the warden-shadows circled around him and dragged him off.

Click, open-shut. An warden with a clipboard let himself out of the room. He caught me staring and nodded coolly. I knew what the nod meant, but he said the words anyways. "You're in there tomorrow, Berwald." He didn't say it sadly, or angrily, or anything. his voice and eyes were absolutely devoid of any emotion. I nodded back, equally emotionless, to show him I wasn't afraid. The warden walked past, going to wherever wardens go.

I listened carefully, glad my door had a thin enough window so I could hear things outside. I had waited about five minutes before I caught the sound I was listening for. A quiet _ta _and a bit of shuffling meant that Tino was back. He always crawled around an all fours, and he never spoke. I only knew his name because I overheard a warden greeting him. Tino was the nicest person I knew here. After Ivan was dragged away, Tino would come and take whatever part of the remains were the least bruised, use his mouth to pick them up, and carry them off somewhere. He was in the room for about two minutes before a blond sphere was picked up and carted out the door. The door clicked shut behind him, and he looked up at me. He placed the sphere gently on the floor and grinned widely up at me. I gave him a small smile of my own, and he bent down and picked up his load agin, apparently satisfied. The _ta_ and shuffle of his crawling slowly faded out of my hearing range.

Tino was why I didn't mind my death tomorrow. He treated every corpse with an inexplicable kindness. I wanted Tino to treat me the same way, and if that would happen when I was dead, that was alright with me. I smiled again, and I clicked my own door, open-shut, as I exited out into the hallway. I liked Tino, but I refused to give Ivan the pleasure of killing me. If it came to that, I was stubborn enough to kill myself than let him do it.

Click, open-shut. I knew where the storeroom was, and got what I wanted easily enough. Back to my door, another click, open-shut. Another smile flitted across my face.

...

...

click,click,click,click,click

...

...

The black-haired doctor knelt over the body before him. "Yes, he's dead." The voice was calm, as was the way he stood and walked over to the other doctor in the room. "What do you propose we do?"

"Let Tino have him. We can find another one for Ivan today." The taller doctor looked at his counterpart. "Kiku, what are your opinions?" Kiku nodded briefly and strode out the door. The other doctor gave a last glance to the prone Swede and followed his counterpart out the door.

There was no click shut.


	3. Missing

_One Headlight_ was my favorite song ever when I was little, and since I can't write without music, it's the inspiration for this chapter. I still love that song.

I also think I have a thing for killing people off OTL

Lilies-of-the-valley are beautiful flowers, aren't they? |D

_

* * *

_

_So long ago I don't remember when_

_That's when they say I lost my only friend_

_They said she died easy of a broken-heart disease_

_As I listened through the cemetery trees_

-"One Headlight", The Wallflowers

* * *

There was a time... a long-ago time when there was someone there with him. Not anymore, though. Now it was just his house and him, alone in one of the more desolate areas of northwest Sweden. He could still remember having company often- nations have long memories- and while Sweden was in between sleep and waking, he could still remember what it felt like to have someone next to him.

Sweden still visited the cemetery once a week, to the grave near the tree that always seemed to be oozing sap, making his hand come away sticky when he touched it. The grave itself was unremarkable, just a small stone with a partially worn-away name on it that was further obscured by a small evergreen bush. Sweden knew the grave and it's location by heart, and had since the day it was dug. Not even Sweden could remember how long it had been, as the year of death on the stone was long gone. But, Sweden still remembered being at the cemetery as the grave was covered. He remembered the stabbing, sad feeling as he watched people place brilliant red roses around the grave. He remembered their whispers on why they were at this funeral- what could cause a country to die _and not come back?_

Sweden didn't know. He still doesn't. All he knows is that he's back to being alone again, and that the frequenters of the cemetery have never seen the small grave in the back near the reddish tree without at least one fresh flower.

* * *

Years, decades, centuries had passed, and though Sweden had forgotten the when and why, the who, the person, the love, would remain etched in his memory.

He laid another lily-of-the-valley on Finland's graves, and brushes the surface gently before standing up and walking back to his house.

* * *

I swear, it wasn't this short while I was writing it. And thank you for all the watches 3

For those who read it, I'll start another chapter of What A Mistake tomorrow (I hope OTL)


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